


Carry On, Simon

by glitterandgin



Category: Fangirl - Rainbow Rowell, Simon Snow series - Gemma T. Leslie
Genre: Enemies to Friends to Lovers, M/M, fluff angst and violence, more tags to come as i write it, tbh the lack of that quote in carry on is at least half of why i'm writing this, this way to the vampire
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-16
Updated: 2015-11-15
Packaged: 2018-04-26 14:11:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 9,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5007775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glitterandgin/pseuds/glitterandgin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's Simon's eighth year at Watford School of Magicks. As he gears up for his last year of classes and the final battle against the Insidious Humdrum, he finds himself contending with a new enemy--his developing feelings for his roommate and nemesis, Tyrannus Basilton Pitch.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

There wasn’t a boy in Simon’s room. By all accounts, Simon should have been overjoyed by this development--hadn’t he spent his first four years at Watford hoping, _praying_ for that exact thing?--but today it simply left him unsettled. It was like when birds returned to their nests before a massive storm. Basil had disappeared to some other part of the school grounds, and it only meant that bigger trouble was coming, probably when he returned to the room.

Should he go look for him? Instinct told him yes, but eight years of experience told him he’d probably end up barrelling into a trap. It was better to wait it out, see if he could avoid whatever Basil had planned by simply avoiding Basil himself. The idea wasn’t too distasteful, now that he thought about it…

He’d nearly fallen asleep sitting propped up against the headboard of his four poster bed when the door slammed open so hard that for a second he thought someone had used a battering ram--or a _gangway_ spell--instead of the knob.

Basil kicked the door shut with a glower that practically emitted lightning. There’s the storm, Simon thought as Basil stomped across the room to his desk and began throwing drawers open and digging through them like a police officer on a drugs bust.

“What are you looking at, Snow?” he said, practically spitting poison and bile with every syllable.

“A git,” Simon said before he could stop himself. By this point, antagonizing Basil had become second nature for him. He still couldn’t tie his tie without a mirror, but he could probably argue with Basil in his sleep.

“The mirror’s that way,” Basil said without missing a beat. “And you’re late for Magic Words.”

#

Penelope raised an eyebrow as Simon walked to his seat in the sort of crouching walk that only ensured he’d drawn the attention of every other person in the room. He mouthed, “Basil” at her before turning to look at Miss Possibelf.

“Nice of you to join us, Simon,” she said, strolling up and down the rows of desks. She returned to the front of the classroom and said, “Today, class, we’ll be studying song lyrics. These have the potential to be the most or least powerful spells in your repertoire. While they’re playing constantly on the radio, it takes barely any magic to use them. It’s keeping them alive after they’ve fallen out of fashion that takes work. How many of you have ever seen the ‘Don’t Start Me Talkin’ spell used?”

The class reached a silence only found in space and places of learning where nobody wanted to admit they didn’t have the answer to a question.

Miss Possibelf nodded. “That’s what I thought. For your next assignment, I want you to find a song--a less recent one, preferably--and practice it as a spell.”

After class, Simon waited by the door for Penelope.

“So,” she said, pushing a lock of her coarse brown hair out of her face. “You were late. For Basil-related reasons.”

Simon nodded.

“What did he do this time? Stick a kitten in a tree? Push a first year into a puddle?”

“This is serious, Penny. He’s plotting something,” Simon said as they walked against the current of students who had emerged from their classes. He had to raise his voice to be heard over an impromptu, out of tune rendition of “Pop Goes the Weasel”. Hmm, there was an idea for his assignment.

“Simon, it’s our last year at Watford. The Humdrum is still on the loose, and we don’t know how to stop him. If Basil isn’t being overtly evil, you might want to spend your energy on something else,” Penny said gently but firmly. “Really, you have enough on your plate without wasting time on him.”

Simon sighed. “Maybe you’re right, Penny.”

“Of course I am.”

“But I’m not giving up.”

“Of course you aren’t.”


	2. Chapter 2

“Simon?”

He turned to see Agatha standing behind him, all shimmering blonde hair and puzzled expression. Simon stood, brushing the grass off his trousers and grimacing at the damp spots the ground had left on his clothes.

“What are you doing out on the pitch? It’s nearly lunch.”

He frowned. After class, he’d gone outside to clear his head. His brain had latched onto the memory of Basil rifling through his desk drawers madly, and it chewed on it like a guard dog with a bone until all other thoughts became background noise. He hadn’t realised he’d wound up on the pitch until Agatha had brought it up.

“Just getting some fresh air,” he said, hoping she wouldn’t bring up the fact that the persistent clouds and humidity rendered the air stale and suffocating.

Agatha pursed her lips but simply said, “Are you coming to lunch?”

Simon nodded and followed her into the dining hall. He’d barely managed to sit at the table with Agatha and Penelope when Penelope said, “Agatha and I are worried about you.”

Agatha hissed, “Penny,” but Penelope continued, “You haven’t said anything about the Humdrum since you encountered him in January. You’re obsessed with Basil. Again. What’s going on?”

“What’s there to say?” _That we’re fighting me, of all people? That obsessing over a lesser evil is the only way I can stay sane until we find the Humdrum’s weakness? That I’m sure I can crack the Humdrum’s defences if I just figure out what Basil’s up to this time?_

“You could start by telling us everything you learned about the Humdrum,” Penelope said, drumming her fingers on the table. “The World of Mages kind of depends on us knowing, after all. Have you even told the Mage?”

Agatha put a hand on Penelope’s forearm, squeezing so gently that Simon barely saw her fingers move at all. “Let him breathe, Penny. I’m sure Simon’s told the Mage. You have, haven’t you?”

Simon pinched the crust of his corned beef sandwich and muttered, “I’m going to…”

Agatha looked so disappointed that Simon wondered if she was going to dump him right then. Penelope was tugging on the ends of her coarse black hair, something Simon hadn’t seen her do since fifth year when he’d insisted on tracking Basil’s every move. Simon’s sandwich was mangled beyond recognition.

Penelope took his hand and tugged him to his feet. “Come on. We’re telling the Mage. Now.”

Simon allowed himself to be frogmarched out of the dining hall, up the marble staircase, and into the Mage’s spire, Agatha trailing behind, holding Simon’s other arm. They released him once they’d reached the door to the Mage’s study, and Simon knocked on the door.

The Mage answered, looking slightly rumpled but unbothered by Simon’s appearance at his office. He raised his bushy red eyebrows when he saw Penelope and Agatha standing behind him. Simon glanced over his shoulder, they’d scooted so they were standing shoulder to shoulder.

“Yes, Simon?” he said, his voice like warm linen.

Someone--Penelope, probably--poked him in the back. He coughed and said, “I want to talk to you, sir. About the Humdrum.”

The Mage’s eyes widened, and he gestured for them to follow him back into the study.

The study hadn’t changed much since Simon’s last visit. The ochre shag carpet had grown more worn, with tracks of mud here and there, and the bookshelves had gathered more dust, but it had largely remained how he remembered it, as though it were encased in amber. The warm glow of the Mage’s desk lamp didn’t do much to dispel the notion.

The Mage took a seat at his desk and said, “Well?”

Simon swallowed and said, “I saw the Humdrum, sir. Last January.”

“Are you sure?”

“Certain,” Simon said, pausing before adding, “sir.”

“But you can speak,” the Mage said, furrowing his brow and stroking his short, pointed beard. The red hair was streaked with grey, a new development since their interaction.

“I’m sorry?”

“The Humdrum,” the Mage paused, pinching the bridge of his nose. “He induces aphasia in his victims. After enough time in his presence, they find themselves unable to speak coherently, let alone perform magic. How did you escape this?”

Simon blinked, and for a moment he wondered if the Humdrum’s effects had merely been delayed. All attempt at speech died somewhere in the bottom of his throat, leaving him swallowing repeatedly in hopes of summoning even the slightest noise. Eventually he managed to say, “I have no idea, sir. We spoke, and then he disappeared.”

“What did he look like?” The Mage’s eyes seemed sharper, somehow, even in the sleepy lamplight.

“Me,” Simon said, and Agatha gasped. “He looked like me, as a child. I don’t know how he took on that shape, sir.”

The Mage nodded, his eyes softening once more. “Thank you, Simon. I’ll take this information to the Coven. You may go.”

“Yes, sir,” Simon said, taking a step backwards and nearly bumping into Penelope and Agatha. “I’ll tell you if I see him again.”

“I know you will, Simon. I can always trust you to do what’s right,” the Mage said before turning to one of the many pieces of paper on his oak desk.

“Yes, sir.” Simon turned and walked to the door, Penelope and Agatha following half a step behind.

“He looks like you?” Agatha said as Simon closed the door behind them.

“What could that mean?” Penelope said, tugging on her hair once more. “He had to have chosen that form for some reason, but why?”

Simon shrugged. “He didn’t say. It wasn’t like we sat down to play 20 questions. I don’t think he was expecting to see me, honestly.”

Penelope pursed her lips before saying, “We’ll figure it out. Come on, let’s get back to lunch before all the food’s gone.”


	3. Chapter 3

“Please tell me we’re not searching for Basil,” Agatha said as she followed after Simon in the Wavering Wood. The dryads preened as they walked past, fluttering their eyelids and twirling their hair around their spindly, greenish fingers.

Simon bit his lip and ran his fingers through his honey-blond hair. It wasn’t the primary reason for their trip to the Wavering Wood, but it was certainly a footnote in his motivations. Was it wrong to lie about that? “I wanted to spend some time with you, Agatha. We didn’t get to talk much this summer, and I missed you.”

Agatha smiled. She had a smile like lavender, soft and calming with a tinge of melancholy revealed by only the closest inspections. “I missed you, too. You and Penelope… I can’t believe this is our last year together.”

“Don’t say that,” Simon said, taking her hand. “We’ll still see each other, even after we graduate.”

“How do you know? The Humdrum could kill us all before we’ve thought of a way to stop him. Even if we survive… Friendships don’t always last, Simon,” she said, her voice soft and sad like a piano sonata.

“We will,” Simon said, and he could feel the magic buzzing through his veins as he said it. “We’ll last. I promise.”

Agatha smiled and shook her hair away from her face. Her hair was so golden, you could practically see your reflection in it. Simon had always imagined that a goblin had spun it from straw, though he’d never told her as much. “I think we’ve had enough melancholy. It’s good to see you again, Simon.”

Simon stopped and turned to look at her. If dreams could be people, he’d always imagined they’d look like Agatha. He wondered if he should kiss her. “It’s good to see you, too.”

When he arrived at his room that night, Basil was gone again. Something was definitely up, he decided. Basil had always made it abundantly clear that the room was as much his as Simon’s, and as such had spent enough time there that even the slightest absence on his part was like a hole where a tooth used to be. Even now, Simon found himself prodding at the absence until Basil returned.

“You’ll give yourself wrinkles scowling like that,” Basil said as he entered the room, the door swooshing shut behind him like he was the villain in some overblown horror film. “Some chosen one you’ll be with a face like a pug. Maybe you’ll defeat the Humdrum with your ugliness.”

“Where were you?” Simon said, the question coming out more accusatory than he’d planned. If a day came when he and Basil were able to have a civil conversation, he’d take it as a sign of the apocalypse.

“Contrary to what you and your precious Mage might believe, I’m entitled to privacy,” Basil said coldly. “Or do I need a permission slip before I need the room?”

“Never mind,” Simon said, standing and storming to the toilet. He brushed his teeth with enough force that it would be a miracle if he had any enamel left. When he returned to the room, Basil was tucked into bed and fast asleep.

Simon frowned as he studied him. He’d never really bothered himself with looking at Basil when he didn’t pose an immediate threat, but now that he did, he found himself puzzled by the difference. Asleep, Basil was non-threatening, almost serene. His mouth was downturned as always, but it was softer now. You could really see the Cupid’s bow when his mouth was like that, relaxed and free of snide comments. Simon shook his head and climbed into his bed, pulling up his duvet until he was entirely covered. It took almost an hour for him to fall asleep, and he only managed to do so when he subconsciously matched his breathing to Basil’s.


	4. Chapter 4

He’d forgotten how big the Wavering Wood was until he found himself lost in it. Maybe “lost” wasn’t quite the word he was looking for. He knew where he was in relation to Basil (about three feet behind, a distance maintained by carefully slowing to almost stillness whenever he got too close), after all. He just didn’t know where that was in the grander scheme of the forest. It would help if he could ask a dryad for directions without catching Basil’s attention…

The forest was dark and crowded, as though the trees meant to press together into an impenetrable wall. The little sunlight that penetrated the clouds and leaves seemed murky, almost muddy by the time it reached Simon. The air was heavy with the smell of moss and peat, with the faintest hints of rot and fungus in some of the darker parts of the woods. Each noise seemed to echo through the area as though the forest was holding its breath; it was a wonder he’d managed to go so long without Basil noticing him.

The moment the thought occurred to him, Basil spun on his heel to face him. The dim sunlight flickered across his features, sharpening the lines of his cheekbones and nose. He curled his lip in disgust and anger. “Do you honestly have nothing better to do with your time, Snow? Shouldn’t you be slaying dragons or performing whatever other inane task the Mage has set for you?”

“What are you doing here?” Simon said, taking a step back as Basil stalked towards him.

Basil gestured to the woods around him. “Throwing a tea party, of course. Does it matter what I’m doing?”

“I know you’re planning something,” he said, balling his hands into fists as he forced himself to remain in place.

They were standing nearly chest to chest now. Simon grimaced and moved a foot back, finding nothing but air behind him. Before he had a chance to regain his balance, he’d slipped off the edge of a cliff, his hands scrabbling madly to gain purchase on something, anything to slow his descent. He grabbed hold of a protruding rock, a slippery thing coated in moss and muck. A slug crawled over his hand, and it took all his effort not to flail his arm in an attempt to displace it. He clawed at the moss, hoping and failing to find a better grip on the rock. He was rewarded with scraped and grubby fingers and the growing awareness that he was  going to fall.

Basil stood above him, his expression cold and grim. He’s going to turn and walk away, Simon thought. He’s going to leave me to die here, and it will take them weeks to find my body. He swallowed and forced himself to not look down. Basil took a step closer, and then another one. Slowly but surely, he arrived at the edge of the cliff, crouching down before lying on his stomach. He extended a hand just barely out of Simon’s reach.

“Why?” Simon called up to him, his voice echoing in the ravine.

“I’m trying to save your life, Snow. Is now really the time for interrogations?” Basil said, lowering his arm so Simon could grab it.

“I don’t trust you,” Simon said, grasping Basil’s forearm.

“Well, I don’t trust you,” Basil spat at him. Actually spat at him, bits of wet landing on Simon’s cheeks.

“Why do you need to trust me?” Simon asked. “I’m the one hanging off a cliff!”

Basil looked down at him distastefully, his arm shaking from Simon’s weight. He swung his other arm down and Simon grabbed at it.

“ _Douglas J. Hennings_ ,” Basil cursed breathlessly, his body inching forward. “Knowing you, you’ll bring the both of us down just to spite me.” 

Simon’s trainers kicked down bits of mud as he climbed up the ravine with the help of Basil. When he was back on solid land, they were both sweating and covered with mud.

Basil’s hair hung in front of his face. His lips were parted slightly as he gasped for breath, blowing the strands of hair ever so slightly. Simon swallowed and looked away.

“Thanks,” he said to a tree just to the left of Basil.

Basil shook his head and began walking back in the direction of Watford.

Simon rolled his eyes and stomped after him. He muttered, “Git.”

#

“That makes no sense,” Penelope said when he told her what had happened. “What would he be doing so far into the forest?”

“He’s planning something, Penny,” Simon said. He still hadn’t managed to clean all the grime out from under his fingernails, and he kept expecting to find a slug somewhere on his person. “What else could he be doing in the Wavering Wood?”

“You and I went there just last week,” Agatha said, toying with her hair. “Maybe he was just taking a walk.”

“Basil doesn’t ‘just’ do anything,” Simon said a little impatiently. “There had to be a reason he was out there. But why would he save my life?”

Penelope and Agatha exchanged a look. After several seconds of silence, Agatha said, “Maybe he’s not as bad as you think.”

“Right. Next he’ll start singing in meadows and adopting pet rabbits,” Simon said, rolling his eyes.

“Have you started on your assignment?” Penelope said, and soon Simon found himself caught up in a conversation about the potential effects of meter and rhyme in song lyrics on their strength as spells. It was easier than trying to drag the conversation back to Basil, especially once Penelope got started on some Bollywood spells her mother had used.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The passage that starts at "I don't trust you" and ends at "Knowing you, you’ll bring the both of us down just to spite me” is taken from Fangirl, page 269.


	5. Chapter 5

“Why did you do it?” Simon demanded for what had to be the tenth time since Basil had stepped out of the shower.

Basil finished wringing out his hair and draped the towel over his shoulders. His skin, normally pale and pearlescent as the inside of a shell, was flushed pink from the shower, and free of any styling or product, the ends of his hair just barely brushed his shoulders. Despite his attempts at drying off, his skin remained slightly damp, so his pyjamas clung to him here and there. He raised an eyebrow. “Is this how you’re going to defeat your Humdrum? Ask inane questions repeatedly until he gives up and throws himself out a window?”

“It’s not inane,” Simon said, pausing briefly before adding, “Why’d you do it?”

Basil grabbed a comb from the sink and turned back to the mirror to begin working through the tangles in his hair, his silence pointed. Simon stormed across the room and grabbed Basil by the shoulder, turning him to face him. Basil took a deep breath. Simon could practically hear him counting to ten in his head.

“I. Don’t. Know,” Basil said through gritted teeth. “I don’t know. Crowley, Snow, I wasn’t thinking. Are you _trying_ to make me regret saving you?”

Simon blinked, his hand still on Basil’s shoulder. “That’s all? You just weren’t thinking?”

“What do you want me to say, that I’m secretly in love with you? Why do I have to have an ulterior motive for saving someone’s life?” Basil jerked away from Simon and resumed brushing his hair, yanking the comb through it as though the strands had personally offended him. “Don’t flatter yourself, Snow; I would have done it for anyone.”

Simon returned to his bed, feeling more uncertain than he had before Basil had answered his question.

#

He’d barely heard the door creak shut as Basil snuck out that night. He’d been lying awake, silently stewing as Basil’s words played through his head like a top 40 song, over and over until the words had etched themselves into his brain. He was about to finally, finally fall asleep when Basil snuck out.

It would be easy enough to go to sleep and leave Basil to do… whatever sort of thing led someone to sneak out of their room at night. Penelope would tell him to do exactly that. Agatha, too. But he couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d get the answers to his questions if he followed Basil. He pulled on his trainers, not even bothering to lace them up as he tiptoed after Basil.

Of course Basil was going back to the Wavering Wood. He’d been interrupted there; it only made sense that he’d want to finish whatever he’d been doing before.

At night, the woods really did seem to waver, the moonlight flickering through not only the leaves, but the tree trunks themselves. The shadows moved independently of their owners, dancing and writhing even as the air remained entirely still.

 _“Out of sight, out of mind,”_ Simon whispered as he struggled to keep up with Basil without stepping on a twig and drawing attention to himself. His laces kept getting caught on branches and rocks, and he could have sworn that some _thing_ grabbed at his ankle as he followed his roommate further into the forest.

They’d reached the heart of the forest. Simon hid behind a tree, watching and holding his breath as Basil stood completely still in the clearing. A darling--a smaller form of a deer with antlers that braided together--trotted into the clearing, stopping just a few yards away from Basil. Then quick, quicker than any human could have managed, Basil rushed to its side, burying his face in its neck as though seeking solace. Basil and the darling stayed that way for a long moment; when they separated, the darling slumped to the ground, and Basil’s mouth was ringed with blood. 


	6. Chapter 6

Simon’s gasp echoed through the clearing, possibly through the entire forest. He ducked behind the tree, clutching his wand like a talisman.

 _“Out of sight, out of mind; out of sight, out of mind; out of sight, out of mind,”_ he whispered. There was power in threes; it was one of the first things he’d learned when he got to Watford. Hopefully it would be enough power to hide him from Basil. He had no hope of outrunning him; he’d just have to stay hidden until Basil was gone.

Over the sound of his pounding heart--could Basil hear that? Weren’t vampires supposed to have good hearing?--he heard Basil say, _“Into thin air.”_

Basil walked past, rubbing the blood off his face with his sleeve and apparently unaware of Simon’s presence. Simon exhaled, clutching his chest as his next breath got caught in his throat. He crouched to the ground, knowledge and fear pounding through his head to the beat of his heart.

Vampire. He’d been living with a vampire for eight years. The thought, more than the lingering smell of blood and the pervasive rot of the forest, made bile rise in his throat and saliva pool in his mouth as he struggled not to retch.

He had to get back to Watford before the drawbridge went up. The idea of sharing a room with a confirmed vampire was hardly pleasant, but it had to be better than sleeping in the Wavering Woods. Besides… he’d been living with a vampire for eight years.

There was the Roommate’s Anathema stopping Basil from hurting him inside their room, of course, but Basil hadn’t tried anything other than minor spells and, on one memorable occasion, a bowl of custard poured into his trainers while his slept. And it wasn’t like the Mage would cover it up if there’d been vampire attacks on the school grounds. Was this what Basil had been up to all this time? It wasn’t like feeding on harmless woodland creatures was going to get him a Student of the Month award, but it was better than anything Simon had imagined. And what did _that_ say about his expectations for Basil?

Nausea subsiding, Simon began his jog back to the fortress. When he’d returned to his room, Basil was in the toilet, brushing his teeth with a level of meticulousness usually found in especially obsessive dentists. Basil spat into the sink and exited the toilet.

Simon tried not to flinch as Basil reached for him--was that too conspicuous? Should he have flinched?

Basil pulled a leaf out of Simon’s hair, one eyebrow raised. Simon stared back at him as defiantly as he could manage, daring him to say something while internally praying he wouldn’t. Basil rolled his eyes and dropped the leaf in Simon’s bin before returning to his grooming.

Simon kicked off his trainers and stripped down to his boxers, grabbing his wrinkled plaid pyjama bottoms from where he’d left him on his bed that morning. Basil’s side of the room was always perfectly, unnervingly clean and organised without so much as a stray sock on the floor. It made Simon feel like a slob and had at least partially contributed to his animosity towards Basil. But, a nasty, petty voice in the back of his mind said, at least _you_ don’t drink blood.

Simon shook his head. He needed to sleep. Things would make sense after he’d slept. He’d wake up, and Basil wouldn’t be a vampire, just a pretentious git with stupid hair. Yeah… he’d just sleep…

#

“Are you all right, Simon?” Agatha said, leaning forward to peer into his eyes. She and Penelope were sitting across the table from him; they’d already been there when he arrived in the cafeteria.

Simon yawned into his elbow and nodded. “Just tired, that’s all.”

He’d already decided not to tell anyone what he’d seen. At least, not yet. Even if he could get someone to believe him, it would mean expulsion--or worse--for Basil. While he wouldn’t pretend to like him, he wasn’t going to get him expelled when he hadn’t technically done anything wrong yet. He’d wait and watch, and if Basil started going after humans… He shook his head. He couldn’t explain why, but something in his gut told him that wouldn’t happen. I’m putting faith in Basil, he thought. The world must be ending sooner than we’d thought.

“Are you sure you’re all right?” Agatha said, tapping the back of his hand.

“Yeah, you haven’t said a single thing about Basil all this time,” Penelope said, raising an eyebrow.

“He might not be so bad,” Simon muttered into his porridge. Judging by Penelope and Agatha’s expressions, it was the wrong thing to say. He took a huge bite of porridge, choked on it, and some dribbed down his chin. Across the room, Basil sneered. Wiping his chin with a napkin, he said, “Never mind. I have to go… somewhere.”

Simon was out of the cafeteria and halfway to his room when the Mage stopped him.

“Simon,” he said, his expression grave. “Some of the professors reported seeing you and Mr Pitch outside of school grounds last night. Almost after curfew, in fact.”

“Sir?” Simon said. Playing dumb had never worked before, but maybe this time…

“I trust you had a good reason to be out,” the Mage continued. “But I have my suspicions about Mr Pitch. His family have been amongst my most outspoken opponents, and I don’t doubt they would leap at the chance to use Tyrannus against me. Did you see what he was doing last night?”

Simon swallowed. It would be so easy to tell the truth, but he couldn’t do that to Baz--Basil. Not yet. Maybe not ever. “He saved my life,” he said. It was half-true, at least. “I was out walking, and I nearly fell off a cliff. He pulled me back. I don’t know what he was doing out there, but I wouldn’t be alive if he hadn’t been there. I don’t think he’s working with his family.”

The Mage pursed his lips and raised his eyebrows. “Your faith in Mr Pitch is admirable, but I wouldn’t be so quick to trust him. If that’s all you know, then I needn’t bother you further. That will be all, Simon.”

Simon slumped against the wall as the Mage passed him. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Basil watching him with an unreadable expression. Simon blinked, and when he opened his eyes, Basil had left.

 

 


	7. Chapter 7

Baz was nowhere to be seen the rest of the day. Simon knew he hadn’t overlooked him in any of his classes or in the hallways; he hadn’t been able to do that since first year. A large part of him wanted to suspect that Baz was up to something nefarious--his parents had practically _named_ him “Count Nefario von Dastardly”, after all--but he was finding it harder and harder to believe that suspicion. All his attempts to find Baz were met with failure. Had he gone off to feed again? How often did vampires need to feed?

He met up with Penelope after Chemistry, just as she was leaving Astrology.

“Have you seen Baz...il?” he said breathlessly.

Penelope shook her head, craning her neck to see around him. “Where’s Agatha?”

“How should I know?” he said, shaking his head.

“She’s your _girlfriend_ , Simon. You should at least know where she is every so often. Do you even talk outside of meals and classes anymore?” Penelope said, and her words felt like a hornet’s sting. She sighed. “I’m sorry. I’m just worried. Agatha and I were supposed to meet after class, and--”

“You’re looking for Basil and Agatha?” one of their classmates, a girl with cornrows, said. “Dev says he saw them walking to the Wavering Woods together. If I was you, I’d hurry and catch up with them.”

Simon felt the blood rush from his face down to his feet. Baz wouldn’t… would he? How much did he really know about Baz’s eating habits? He had to go find him, stop him before he did something drastic.

“I’ll find them,” Simon said, already pushing his way into the crush of students leaving their classrooms. “Stay here.”

Simon ran as fast as he could. Faster. Casting spells on his feet and legs, casting spells on the branches and stones in his path.

He could already be too late--at first he thought he was, when he saw Agatha lying in a heap on the forest floor… But it was a trembling heap. Agatha may be frightened, but she was still whole.

Baz was kneeling over her and trembling just as hard. His hair hung forward in a way he normally wouldn’t allow, and his pale skin glowed oddly in the moonlight, like the inside of a shell. Simon wondered for a moment why Agatha wasn’t trying to escape. She must be dazed, he thought. Vampires could do that, couldn’t they?

“Go. Away,” Baz hissed.

“Baz…” Simon said, holding his hand out.

“Don’t look at me.”

Simon avoided Baz’s eyes, but he didn’t look away. “I’m not afraid of you,” Simon said.

“You should be. I could kill you both. Her first, then you, before you’d even realized I was doing it. I’m so fast, Simon…” His voice broke on the last two words.

“I know…”

“And so strong…”

“I know.”

“And so _thirsty_.”

Simon’s voice was almost a whisper. “I know.”

Baz’s shoulders shook. Agatha started to sit up--she must be recovering. Simon looked at her gravely and shook his head. He took another step toward them. He was close now. In Baz’s reach.

“I’m not afraid of you, Baz.”

“Why _not_?” Baz whined. It was an animal whine. Wounded.

“Because I know you. And I know you wouldn’t hurt me.” Simon held out his hand and gently pushed back the errant lock of black hair. Baz’s head tilted up with the touch, his fangs popped and gleaming. “You’re so _strong_ , Baz.”

Baz reached for him then, clutching Simon around the waist and pressing his face into his stomach.

Agatha slid out from between them and ran toward the fortress. Simon held Baz by the back of his neck and curved his body over him. “I know,” Simon said. “I know everything.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From "Simon ran as fast as he could" to the end is taken from Fangirl, pages 206-7.


	8. Chapter 8

Simon stayed there for a little while, just holding Baz until his tremors slowly subsided. When he'd calmed down, Baz squirmed out of Simon's embrace, determinedly looking anywhere but at him. Simon tugged his shirt back into place, trying and failing to smooth out the wrinkles left by Baz.

"We should get back to Watford," Simon said, taking a tentative step towards him. Baz didn't move away. "They'll close the drawbridge."

"Leave me," Baz said, his voice regaining just a hint of its usual chill.

"But--"

"Just go, Snow."

Simon blinked and stood there, waiting and almost wishing for Baz to change his mind. When it became clear he wouldn't, Simon turned and began the lonely walk back to Watford, the moonlight highlighting each solitary step he took.

Agatha and Penelope were waiting on the drawbridge, Penelope having draped an arm over Agatha's shoulders while Agatha leaned close to her.

"Where's Basil?" Agatha said, her voice almost conspicuously calm as she said Basil's name.

Simon shook his head. "He wouldn't come back with me."

Penelope raised her eyebrows but remained silent. They stood there, the three of them wondering what could possibly be said at a time like this.

Finally, Agatha said, "We should get inside."

Simon wanted to laugh at the absurdity of the statement. Baz was a vampire--a vampire that had nearly attacked his girlfriend, no less--and all any of them could think to say was "we should get inside." Instead, he nodded and followed them back into the fortress as Penelope and Agatha walked hand in hand.

Baz didn't return to the room that night. Simon knew. He'd stayed up waiting.

#

When Baz arrived--dirty, dishevelled, but healthier than he’d seemed before, visible even under all the grime--an entire day later, Simon said, “I won’t tell anyone.”

Baz blinked, his expression flashing from confusion to panic to relief like images in a flipbook before finally settling on cool disinterest. “That you’re an idiot? Bit late for that, Snow; we’ve already figured it out.”

Simon shook the words off as though they were water droplets. “You know what I’m talking about. I won’t tell anyone that you’re a vampire.”

Baz’s hands shook at his sides. He opened his mouth, closed it, turned on his heel, and locked himself in the toilet. Simon might have been imagining it, but he thought he could hear Baz hyperventilating through the door.

He could confront Baz. Use an _open sesame_ spell and force the matter. But if he did, he’d drag their encounter in the forest-- _encounters_ in the forest--out into the daylight, and he wasn’t sure he could handle the fallout from that right now. He needed to work out what they meant before he tried discussing them with Baz, who could make a simple conversation about the weather difficult and aggravating. No.

He could comfort Baz. He wasn’t sure where that idea had come from, possibly it was just an echo of their last interaction. If anything, that was a worse idea than confronting him. There were a million different ways that situation could play out, and none of them ended well. Almost all of them ended in a shouting match, and one of them ended with a kiss _(where had_ that _one come from?)_.

It was best to leave the issue alone. It was best to leave _Baz_ alone. It was best to ignore everything until it went away. _Now you see it, now you don’t._


	9. Chapter 9

Of course, the problem with _now you see it, now you don’t_ was that it never actually got rid of anything. It only made things invisible, and that rarely lasted long enough for the spell to be of any real use. In fact, Simon reflected as he lay in bed that night (he’d had to knock on Byron’s door to use his toilet; Baz still hadn’t left theirs), the spell only seemed to draw more attention to whatever had “disappeared”.

He was still completely awake by the time Baz left the toilet, though he’d turned off the lights by that point. If he was going to lie in bed and stew in his thoughts, there was no sense wasting electricity.

“I mean it,” he said softly as Baz’s blankets rustled. “I won’t tell anyone.”

Silence. Then, so quiet that it was almost inaudible over the sound of his blankets moving as he shifted in bed, Baz said, “Thanks.”

The next day, things were almost back to normal. Baz sat at his table just across the cafeteria from Simon, but now he’d started looking over at Simon throughout his meal. Not scowling or sneering, just staring. Like Simon had changed somehow, but he couldn’t quite pin down in what way. Simon made eye contact at one point during their meal; Baz had held it until Simon had to shake his head and look back at Penelope and Agatha.

“Simon, are you free after breakfast?” Agatha said, reaching for his hand and stopping just a centimetre away. “I’d like to talk to you about…” she trailed off, gesturing towards Baz with a slight nod of her head.

Simon swallowed and said, “Uh, yeah. The pitch?”

“How about the library? Penny and I want to do some research, so it makes sense for me to be there already,” Agatha said, looking over at Penelope. Penelope nodded.

“Library works for me,” he said, looking at Baz one last time. Baz almost seemed to smile before catching himself and turning it into a genuine smirk. Simon rolled his eyes. “I’m ready when you are.”

Watford’s library was a large octagonal room partitioned into small triangular sections that met at the check-out desk in the centre. Simon and Agatha wandered until they found the section dedicated to magical and non-Euclidean geometries (nobody was ever there. Simon was pretty sure the section only existed because the school seemed more serious if it had a section devoted to magical maths.)

“So,” Simon said, really looking at Agatha for the first time since the incident. If she was still shaken by it, there were no physical signs. It was like she’d been shaped from composure and honeyed milk. Simon felt a sudden surge of affection as he regarded her, and the shock of it made him blink. When was the last time he’d felt that way towards her?

“Right,” Agatha said so crisply it was like she’d been taking locution lessons from Penelope. “Are you going to tell anyone about Basil?”

He shook his head. “I know he seems dangerous, but if you think about how long he’s been here without hurting anyone--”

“He could have hurt _me_ , Simon,” she said, crossing her arms and raising her chin. “If you hadn’t shown up--”

“I don’t think he would have done anything,” Simon said, amazed by how much he believed his words. “He saved my life.”

Agatha said, “That’s the thing, isn’t it? He saved _your_ life.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

She shook her head. “Never mind, Simon. I won’t tell anyone yet. About anything. I’ve got to go, Simon. I need a break from, well. From both of you.”

Before Simon could ask what that meant (when did Agatha get so cryptic?), she’d walked past him and gone off to meet with Penelope.

He ran into Baz on his way out of the maths section. Before Simon could decide whether he should just walk past without acknowledging him, Baz had grabbed his wrist and dragged him back between the stacks.

“What do you want?” Baz said apropos of nothing.

Simon looked down at his wrist, which Baz still gripped. He didn’t even move his arm, just looked at Baz’s hand. It was the prototypical vampire hand, all pale, elegant fingers and angles so sharp they could have been filed to look that way. “What?”

“You’re not telling anyone,” Baz said, glancing around as though he expected the Mage to materialize from one of the books. “Even you can’t be enough of a hero to believe in good vampires. You’re keeping my secret; what do you want from me?”

“I don’t want anything,” Simon said, taking Baz’s free hand before he could stop himself. Baz’s hand twitched as though Simon had shocked him.

“That’s a load of bollocks,” Baz sneered. “You’ve got lifelong blackmail material on me. Of course you want something. Out with it, Snow.”

“I don’t. Want. Anything,” he said, squeezing Baz’s hand and then wondering why he’d done that. “I did something nice for you. Let’s leave it at that.”

“You’re crap at this ‘nemesis’ thing, aren’t you?” Baz said, raising an eyebrow.

“You’re not much better,” Simon retorted, taking a miniscule step forward. “At least I’ve never dangled off a cliff to save you.”

Baz stepped closer to Simon. They were practically chest to chest now. He released Simon’s wrist and reached up to tuck a strand of hair behind Simon’s ear, stopping with his hand on Simon’s cheek.

Simon swallowed and leaned forward, placing a hand on Baz’s shoulder and stroking his neck with his thumb.

When Baz spoke, Simon could feel the words hit his lips. “You’re really, really crap at this ‘nemesis’ thing.”

And then Baz kissed him, slow and gentle as a dream. And without thinking, Simon kissed him back.

 

 


	10. Chapter 10

“Oh, good,” Agatha said as Simon approached her in the ancient Basque section. Penelope had raised her eyebrows and walked to another segment of the library the moment she made eye contact with Simon. Odd.

“I think we need to talk,” Simon said, wishing he didn’t sound so much like a character in a soap opera. Next he’d start accusing her of sleeping with the brother of the neurotic neurosurgeon he’d pushed down an escalator in the previous episode.

Agatha nodded, running her thumbs over her fingernails, which were painted periwinkle.

“You said you were taking a break from,” he paused to swallow before forcing out, “from me, yeah?”

She nodded, the corners of her mouth lowering just slightly. “Simon, I--”

“What if we made it permanent,” he said, quickly and without inflection. As though it were a long word he were stumbling through. _Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious._

“Simon--”

“Penny was right. I don’t see you much anymore. And I--I think it would be better if we were just friends,” he continued as though she hadn’t spoken. _And I kind of kissed Baz. Or he kissed me. There was kissing involved._

“Simon--”

He took a deep breath and said, “I’m sorry. I’m really sorry, Agatha. I think it would be for the best.”

 _“Simon,”_ she said, sadly but firmly. “I agree. I wanted to talk to you about this, too.”

“You… what?”

She sighed. “I’ve been talking with, well, with someone else. And I realised that I’d be better of with he--with them. I’ll always love you, Simon. Just. As a friend. We can still be friends, can’t we?”

“Of course,” Simon said, nodding emphatically. “Of course we can. But. I have a question.”

“Oh?”

“What were you and Baz doing in the forest that night?”

Agatha laughed, light as windchimes, like they hadn’t just broken up. “I’d followed him because I wanted to talk about you.”

Simon blinked. “What?”

She shook her head, smiling. “You’ll figure it out. If you don’t mind, I need to go talk to Penny.”

And then she was gone, and Simon was alone in the segment, currently short one girlfriend and plus one… whatever Baz was. He should go tell Baz.

He was halfway to the maths section when he found the path blocked by a small crowd of students ranging from first to eighth years. Despite the noise they were making, the librarian, Mrs Tegia, didn’t reprimand them and instead looked on in shocked silence.

Simon peered through the gap between two students. In the centre of the circle the crowd had formed, there was a first year--a gangly, painfully ginger boy. His nose dripped snot, and he was breathing in large, shaky hiccups.

 _“Piece of… Piece of…”_ he said, shaking his hand in the universal gesture for someone searching for a word.

“He’s been like this since Magic Words,” another first year hissed. “He hasn’t been able to finish a sentence all day.”

Icy terror took hold of Simon’s lungs and squeezed. It couldn’t be… He had to tell the Mage.

Already breathing as though he’d run a marathon, Simon turned and sprinted to the Mage’s office.

“Sir,” he gasped, pushing the door open. “A student--aphasia--first year--”

The Mage stood suddenly, his chair toppling over behind him. “Where?”

“Library,” Simon said as the Mage nearly bowled him over on his way out of the office. Simon ran after him, barely managing to keep up as the Mage pushed his way through the clusters of students. _How did he manage to run so quickly in heeled boots?_

The crowd was still gathered in the centre of the library, the first year still trying and failing to finish a sentence, let alone cast a spell.

The Mage frowned. “Call his parents. Someone help him pack his things.”

Mrs Tegia looked up at him, brow furrowed. “Sir?”

“We should have him out of here by tomorrow.” He glanced from student to student gravely. “That will be all.”

After the crowd had dispersed and someone had guided the first year back to his room, Simon said, “Do you think it’s a good idea to send him away?”

The Mage’s frown deepened. “Would it have been better to let him stay here? A student with no magic is a liability, Simon, and one we can’t afford to have at this time. The Insidious Humdrum has found a way to affect students, and we can’t have anyone who can’t defend themselves at Watford.”

Simon bit his lip and said, “I understand. Sir.”

The Mage nodded, smiling slightly. “I knew you would, Simon. You of all people should understand the need to make sacrifices for the greater good. I just fear your sacrifices won’t be too great.”

Simon shifted his weight from foot to foot, wondering what could possibly be a proper response to that. Eventually he said, “Thank you, sir.”

The Mage’s smile grew a fraction. He turned--pivoted, really--and walked back to his office, leaving Simon alone.

Baz was already in their room when Simon got there.

“We need to talk.”

Baz raised an eyebrow. “One kiss, and you’re already breaking up with me?”

Simon ran a hand through his honey blond hair. “Why did you kiss me?”

“Obviously it’s part of my plan to steal your girlfriend. I skipped the day they covered how to concoct evil schemes in my Villains 101 class,” Baz said, sitting up a little more in bed. His hair was slightly mussed from lounging against his pillow, and part of his shirt had come untucked from his trousers.

“Why do you have to make everything so difficult?”

“You’re the Chosen One,” Baz said, spitting out the last two words like he had a mouth full of chalk. “‘Difficult’ is your life’s default setting.”

Simon sighed. He stomped over to Baz’s bed, pulled him close by the front of his previously pressed white shirt, and kissed him, sloppy and frustrated and perfect. “That wasn’t so difficult.”


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's been so long since the last update! I've had some work and health problems, but I'm back and ready to continue this story. I hope you enjoy the chapter!

Baz shoved Simon away, climbing out of his bed as though it had caught fire. He was out of the room before Simon had a chance to process what was going on.

By the time Simon had reached the hallway, there was no sign of where Baz had gone. Burying a hand in his hair and tugging just hard enough to feel it at the roots, Simon returned to the room, kicking the door shut before walking over to his bed and flopping on it. He should take of his trainers. He should try to learn more about the first year. He should… But slowly, so slowly he barely noticed it was happening until he was too far gone to stop it, he fell asleep.

When he woke, his ankles were stiff from sleeping with his feet hanging off the bed. The faint glow of Baz’s desk lamp emanated from the other side of the room, and he could hear the occasional sigh or soft clearing of throat as Baz did his coursework. He shifted, grimacing at the pull of muscles that had gone rigid during his nap.

“Baz?” he said, his voice so sticky with sleep that it took him several tries to say it correctly.

Baz made a noncommittal grunt and continued poring over his books. If he kept staring at them that way, he’d wear holes in the pages. His shoulders were drawn up almost to his ears, as though he were bracing himself for an incoming missile.

“Baz?” Simon said, scooting so that he was perched on the edge of the bed, poised to approach him.

Baz’s shoulders grew, if possible, even more tense. “What, Snow?”

“I thought maybe you’d like to talk. About what happened in the library,” he said, standing up slowly.

“Go back to bed,” Baz said, snapping like a string drawn too tightly on a musical instrument. “There’s nothing to talk about.”

“Really?” Simon said, taking step after shaky step until he’d reached Baz. “Because I’m pretty sure we need to talk about why you kissed me.”

Baz stood, knocking his chair over in his haste. The desk light sharpened his features until his cheekbones looked lethal and his eyes shone like polished granite. “It was a mistake, Snow. I’ve learned from it, and you should do the same.” He stooped down to right his chair, shaking his head. The sharpness was almost entirely gone from his voice when he said, “I need to study.”

“Right,” Simon said, the word rubbing against his throat like sandpaper. He swallowed in hopes of making the feeling disappear; it only worsened. “Right.”

He walked back to his bed, stopping every few steps to look over his shoulder at Baz, who was staring at his work so intently that he had to know what Simon was doing. He reached his bed, kicked off his trainers, and crawled under the covers to begin a night of surreptitiously studying his roommate.

“Did you sleep at all last night?” Penelope said as Simon sat at the breakfast table.

“Of course I,” Simon said, pausing to yawn. “Did.”

Penelope raised an eyebrow. Agatha sat next to her, their hands touching whenever they weren’t being used. A blue and silver flower barrette glittered in Penelope’s hair; wasn’t that Agatha’s? Simon must have been more tired than he’d thought.

Agatha said, “You’re obsessing over him again, aren’t you?”

Simon attempted to run a hand through his hair, his fingers getting stuck halfway through. That showed him for not brushing his hair in the morning. “I could be thinking of someone--thing else.”

“Right,” Penelope said, toying with her tea bag. “But you aren’t. That’s what we’re here for. You saw the first year with aphasia. Tell us about it.”

Simon closed his eyes and told them everything he remembered from the scene in the library, carefully avoiding mentioning the encounter with Baz that had preceded it. By the time he’d finished recounting it, Penelope’s lips were pursed and Agatha was picking at her cuticles.

“A first year,” Agatha said, softly and sadly. She shook her head, looking ill.

“How did he get so close to Watford?” Penelope said, tapping her fingers on the table with enough force that it shook slightly. “We’d have known if he’d gotten in. None of us would be able to have a conversation anymore, for Morgana’s sake. But how did he get close enough to affect a first year?”

Simon tore off the crust of his toast, pinching it into a ball. “I don’t know. I could ask the Mage; he’ll know.”

“If he knew, wouldn’t he be doing something about it?” Penelope said, shaking her head. “He’s never shied away from keeping you in the loop, Simon. He doesn’t know how it happened, and he doesn’t want you to know that.”

Simon tore off a piece of skin from his lower lip with his teeth and winced. “I should go look for him. Before he hurts anyone else.”

Penelope and Agatha looked as though they’d been hit by a _thunderstruck_ spell. Agatha said, “No, Simon. Losing your magic won’t help anyone.”

“I was safe from him the last time I saw him,” he said. His toast was almost entirely mutilated by this point.

“And we still don’t know how that happened,” Penelope said, her hands going still before she clenched them into fists. “You’re not searching for him until we’ve done more research. And when you go after him, we’re coming with you.”

Agatha nodded, her jaw set.

Simon found himself nodding along with her. “Let’s go to the library.”

**Author's Note:**

> At the end of Carry On, Rainbow Rowell said that the novel was her take on a Chosen One story. This is my imagining of Cath's Carry On, Simon, eventually complete with Cath's excerpts from Fangirl. I love and respect Rowell's Carry On, but my need for a version that included "this way to the vampire" with context was too pressing for me to not do this. I hope you enjoy it!


End file.
